Over the Hills
by oswinchesterec
Summary: After losing Mary & Castiel in the battle against Lucifer for Jack, Dean shut down. He took cases, watched Sam help Jack, but had no hope left in him. When they work a case involving djinns, Dean found his new dream-state to be centered on Cas. What happens when Castiel returns, with Dean still unsure of what to think? & when Cas struggles with every version of himself in his head?


Work with me here, folks. This is my first go at _Supernatural_ fanfiction. Here we go. Starts off a little slow… My bad.

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" _Don't_ touch the tape." Dean's voice cut through the low notes of a Led Zeppelin song, playing numbly in the background to drown the silence. It had been that way the entire ride back to the bunker, with Sam hesitantly tapping away at his thighs, puffing out agitated breaths as he stared distraughtly out the Impala's window. But now, he had attempted to reach for the tape, to finally flip it over, or change it altogether. It had been the same few songs, repeating themselves one after the next. Dean had made no move to fix the issue, his face stern, green eyes dark in the bare light of the headlights.

Blood still stained both the brothers' shirts, a knife still dirtied in lamb's blood wrapped in a loose towel in the backseat, tucked firmly against Jack's side. The boy had fallen asleep, seemingly unaffected by the tension of the adults.

What had meant to be a simple case, turned out to be a lone djinn, scavenging through the brains of people in a small town near the border of Michigan. It was still messing with Dean's head, and Sam knew it. He recognized his brother's eagerness to leave, to mute himself, to draw further in than he usually was. No, Sam hadn't expected a long family chat on the ride back, not with Jack tailing along - but he had expected something. _Anything._

Instead, Dean packed the car, getting in with mumbled remarks about Jack's sleeping schedule. The hunt was one of the first few they had gone on since Mary had disappeared through the rift, since Castiel had been stabbed. Sam and Dean had managed to take in Jack after his temporary escape, running off out of fear and mournful of his mother. He had been looking for Castiel, unaware the angel's vessel had been carried inside by Dean. He wasn't there to watch Dean stare down at Jimmy Novak's body, only seeing Castiel in the cheekbones and full lips. Only his friend, as Dean pulled a sheet over the vessel's face, putting off his funeral until Jack was recovered.

It had taken Dean longer than anticipated to leave the house, wanting desperately to go back outside, to sit where Castiel's wings had scorched the dirt. He had picked some up in his hands, let it run through his fingers, idly watching as if a mere bystander - incapable of helping.

The worst thing about djinns? They knew. This one had known the pain Dean was suppressing, more than Sam was, more than Jack. He had chosen Dean, picked him off by putting the other two in harm's way - realizing, like most monsters had before her, that Dean put more worth in his baby brother. His brother thought the nephilim was deserving of a chance, and while Dean had nearly come to terms with that, he understood the basics. He understood Sam would hurt if the kid was injured. So, he had put himself in front of them. Used himself as a distraction, shouting to his brother to get out as shots went off. Bullets digging into the djinn's legs, slowing her down, but by no means stopping her.

The djinn knew. Dean could still see flashes of his dream-state on the road before him, like splatters of paint against canvas. A mistake, but a distinct one. And it was bright blue. Jimmy Novak's eyes… No, Castiel's eyes. His silence now, as Sam pulled his hand back sluggishly from the radio, was a suppressant. He couldn't talk about it. He couldn't talk about his loss, or what he had seen as his blood was drained from his body.

"Dean, man, come on. We've been listening to the same cassette for two hours now." Sam protested, frowning at the side of his brother's face.

Dean simply shook his head, briefly, once. If he hadn't been observing his older brother so closely, Sam would have missed the motion entirely. "Don't disrespect Zeppelin like that, Sammy." Dean tried to tease, but his voice was faint, no heart in the attempted humor.

Hell, it wasn't even Dean's tape. It was his last step before leaving that house by the lake, emptying Castiel's truck. This tape was a gift. And damn it, Castiel was supposed to be alive to keep it.


End file.
